Departures and first impressions

As I waited at the departure gate, about to board the dreaded 15 hour flight from Toronto to Hong Kong, I looked around at everyone else, thinking, ‘am I actually doing this?’, ‘am I actually leaving for good?’ At that moment, I felt as though, all I’ve been focusing on recently has been the ‘preparation to go’ versus actually getting there, and being in Dhaka. From the two intensive VSO training courses in Ottawa, to quitting my job, to moving out of Phoebe Palace, my home of almost four years, and garage sales, selling stuff on Craigslist… I glazed over the fact that I was walking into the unknown. I don’t know if anything could have really prepared me to realize the fact that I’m leaving a whole life behind. I’m not on vacation, this is real life and it starts now.

After the longest plane journey of my life and a pit stop in Hong Kong for a well earned beer, I was the last in line at Dhaka airport to get through customs. To my relief however, I got through without a hitch, collected my luggage right away, and there was someone there to meet me at the airport. I greeted him and he took my bags as I followed him outside. The heat hit me like a ton of bricks and people swarmed the airport gates, mostly children, as we pushed through to get to the VSO truck. There was an instant flurry of traffic and honking horns, symbolizing that this city never sleeps. Everything seemed like a surreal dream sequence as everything I’d imagined Bangladesh to look like, was coming true. Overcrowded buses whizzed past multicoloured rickshaws as they weaved in and out of traffic, competing with CNGs (tiny 3-wheeled, motorized vehicles) and other cars; all on a wild race to get somewhere. My driver tried to point out sights for me to see but everything was a blur, especially in the dark. After passing through hundreds of winding roads, we pulled up to the induction flat , where I’ll spend the next month. Seven flights of stairs later, we had arrived at our destination but to our dismay, no one answered the door. Following several rings, my future roommate answered the door but we’d disrupted her slumber. To my disappointment, she went straight back to bed and the other flatmate was out. The place suddenly felt dark and lifeless. And thanks to no air conditioning comforts, really Goddamn hot. I also realized that in not having my own room, I don’t really have anywhere to put my belongings, so I’m basically living out of my backpack until November.
The flat itself is basic but adequate enough, and the shared areas are spacious. We have three balconies which are amazing, and they help bring in a breeze, but the lack of air conditioning and frequent power cuts, means that the place is boiling hot 99% of the time and it’s really hard to sleep. I got three huge mosquito bites last night when I tried to fix the fan in the midst of a power cut, but, no luck. Not to mention, the Muslim prayer chants are blasted from megaphone towers at 5am every day. I’m sure I’ll get used to it, but who needs an alarm clock when God can wake you up instead!? It’s funny that only after a few days, I’m also realizing how much I miss having a stereo, WIFI and TV. I think part of it is just not being able to have something makes you want it more.

After spending the first day napping and snacking, the weekend arrived and on Friday night, the seasoned volunteers here invited us out to the Bagha expat club for drinks. Now we’re talking! We split into groups to jump across town in CNGs and even though ours broke down in the middle of the street, we all arrived at the club and I was pleasantly surprised. It’s like a country club, complete with swimming pool, different bars, AC (yeah!) and this night, it was also all decorated with UV lights. Hello, love it! After enjoying too many Carlsberg’s in the upstairs bar, an older British man bought us all tickets to the dance party and amazingly, the DJ was great and the crowd seriously appreciated the music. I have no idea how I kept dancing in such heat but all of a sudden, I felt like I blinked and it was suddenly 4am. A Bangladeshi model/actor I met, walked us out and bargained on a CNG for us to get from Gulshan (the rich, diplomat area) back to Lalmatia (my ‘middle-class’ neighbourhood).

A few hours later and a 5am wake up, rolled us into the next morning and we had to meet more volunteers to take us to New Market, Dhaka’s shopping Mecca. Imagine the vibrancy of Slumdog Millionaire and then imagine yourself, right in the middle of that chaos. That’s New Market. Now, we all know I can shop with the best of them but this was something else. The level of haggling involved to buy even the smallest thing is exhausting and most importantly, requires good Bengali language skills. Added to the fact that New Market is one of the busiest markets in a city of over 15million people, it is truly is a sensory overload. Saris, silks, shoes, jewellery, watches, gadgets, you name it. You can get anything under the sun at New Market. One of the other volunteers who has lived in Dhaka for over a year, became my new best friend because he’ll die for a bargain and he’s a good Bengali speaker. I ended up getting two traditional outfits called salwar kameez with his help, both for under $10. Result! Afterwards, we went for lunch at an art gallery – Bengal Café – for some traditional Bangladeshi cuisine and to look at some local art, followed by another shopping trip to the grocery store. Needless to say, I was wiped by the end of the day and my addiction to naps in this country is a concern. It must be the heat but I feel like I’m borderline narcoleptic right now!

Anyway, today we had proper training with VSO on the history of Bangladesh which was really helpful, and we also had a chance for some Q&A. The VSO Bangladesh staff are fantastic; so welcoming and approachable. Tomorrow we go to the hospital for a tour as well as start our first Bengali language classes. Wish me luck!